Wine and Wishes
by starry19
Summary: "He turned his head slightly, nose skimming her hair until he found the delicate shell of her ear. "You have to admit - I have good ideas sometimes," he murmured, deliberately letting his lips brush against her sensitive skin. She didn't even bother to hide her shiver. "Sometimes," she breathed, her fingers digging into his back." Jane/Lisbon


**AN**: I'm supposed to be doing my grades right now. I did this instead. I swear, one day I'll write a story that has an actual plot again, but it's not today. Humor me - we'll just consider these writing exercises for my brain. All I knew is that I wanted them to make-out. Is that so wrong of me?

Forgive me if they're behaving a touch strangely.

**Wine and Wishes**

He couldn't remember the exact date that she had started wearing earrings on a regular basis, but he suspected it was right around the time Lorelei had entered their lives. It was a subtle thing. Subtle, but powerful.

Just the slight glimmer of a gem drawing his eye to the side of her face, down the slender column of her neck.

At which point he tended to totally lose concentration, let alone when he let his gaze brush across the fragile wing of her collarbone, the hollow of her throat where her pulse thrummed.

If it was her intention to remind him that she was a woman, she had failed. He was always aware of that, but he thought he knew what she was doing.

She was jealous of Lorelei, although she would die before she admitted it.

It touched him, but it was painful. She had absolutely no reason to feel that way. Did she think, did she truly think, that just because Lorelei had been his first lover in ten years that she was the type of woman he wanted?

Of course, as far as looks went, Lorelei was nothing to sneer at. In fact, she bore a resemblance to Lisbon, something he was quite sure was intentional on Red John's part. Substituting the woman he wanted for one who looked a bit like her.

It had certainly made their night together a bit easier to fake, though there was no way he could have ever forgotten who was really with.

But it bothered him that Lisbon was trying, even a little, to turn herself into Lorelei. Her nails now were usually lightly coated in some innocuous shade. Again, subtle, but decidedly un-Lisbon. He wasn't sure she even realized she was doing it, or at least she didn't know the reasons _why_ she was doing it, but he had seen more of Lisbon's feminine side since he returned from Vegas than he had in almost all of the preceding years combined.

It made him sad to think that she didn't believe he wanted her just the way she was. She was already the woman he needed.

He would have thought, over the years, that he had managed to express that quite clearly, but apparently not.

Perhaps it was time for some overtness, ill-advised though it may be.

Of course, the question then became _how._

He couldn't very well pull her into the attic for an impromptu make-out session, although that would certainly get his point across.

And would definitely make his day.

He was laying on her couch, arms folded behind his head, listening to the sound of her working industriously at her desk.

There were a million reasons why he should never cross the line he was currently hovering above. It would put her in a ridiculous amount of danger, she deserved better than the shadow of a man, he would only ever bring her pain.

The counter argument was that she was already in danger, had been for years. And, despite what she deserved, she wanted him, as foolish as that was of her.

"Let's get dinner tonight," he said as nonchalantly as he could, disturbing the previous silence of her office.

"Sure," she said, and he knew without looking that her eyes were still on her computer screen.

It was a common request, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Their impromptu dinner dates happened on a regular basis; neither one of them ever had plans, and some days it was harder to be lonely than others.

Of course, now Thursdays had been eliminated from their schedule, thanks to her insistence to continue playing poker with a group of semi-powerful people.

And Mancini.

He frowned with that thought. From what he understood, however, Mancini wasn't a frequent participant, his work at the Bureau being fairly time consuming and erratic. Small favors, and all of that.

He wasn't sure he could stomach the idea of Lisbon spending one night a week in a non-professional setting with a man who clearly wanted to know if she was as good of a lover as she was a cop.

If he was a betting man, he would have said that yes, she was.

Not that he had any knowledge on which to base his claim.

Not yet, anyway.

Absently, he crossed and uncrossed his ankles, shoved a pillow further behind his head. In the back of his mind, he congratulated himself once again on the purchase of this couch. It had been one of his better ideas.

He drifted off, and when he woke, Lisbon was gone, but the purple throw was draped over him, the ends slightly tucked in.

Typical Lisbon. Affectionate without being overtly so. If pressed, she could claim she would have done the same thing for anyone on her team. It was probably even true.

But the rest of the team didn't need her the way he did. And she knew that, too.

The rays of sun slanting in from the window told him it was later in the afternoon. He was, as always, a little surprised that he had managed to sleep at all, and it was especially notable that he had managed to sleep without dreaming.

He found her in the kitchenette, making a fresh pot of coffee.

There was no way she needed more caffeine, but it would be pointless to tell her that. She would probably just drink more to spite him.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave as he angled his hips against the counter. "Can I talk you into leaving for dinner now?"

She followed his eyes. "Now? It's 4:45, Jane. Are you after the early bird special, old man? Have some buffet coupons to use?"

He smiled. "Oh, absolutely. I was thinking we could go crash a Bingo game when we were done."

There was no real reason he wanted to leave early - perhaps it was just the prospect of spending the evening with her that was propelling him forward. No interruptions, no other people demanding her attention.

And the earlier they left, the more time he would have with her.

"I know you think the entire CBI will crumble if you leave an unsigned form in your inbox, but I swear everything will be here in the morning," he teased, hoping that she could put aside her work ethic for just a while.

She sighed, looking like she was debating, and he knew he had already won.

"Fine," she eventually breathed. "I'll get my coat."

The place he took her to was quiet, intimate. It was set up to make them feel like they were the only people in the restaurant.

It wasn't a place you took someone casually.

Before she could argue, he had ordered them both wine. If she had her way, they would be drinking draft beer.

He teased and flirted lightly, drawing her out past her initial (and not particularly unusual) suspicion of him.

By the time their appetizers got to the table, she was laughing, looking rosy cheeked and gorgeous in the flickering glow of the tea lights. He loved that he was able to have this effect on her.

After their meal, noting that she'd downed three full glasses of wine, he rested his hand carefully on her waist. She definitely noticed the gesture, but she didn't push him away. Instead, she leaned very subtly into him.

He was just lucky she couldn't see his smile.

Tucking her safely in the passenger seat, he got behind the wheel and drove aimlessly. Lisbon didn't question him, seemingly content to be where she was.

The glow of lights in a park caught his eye. On a whim, he pulled the Citroen into the lot, pleased when he saw the street band.

He could feel Lisbon's eyes on him. "What the hell are we doing here?" she demanded.

"I have no idea," he admitted. "Do you have more pressing matters to attend to? After all, we did eat pretty early tonight. Lots of time left in the evening."

She rolled her eyes, but followed his lead as he exited the car. He swore he heard her mutter something about his mental state, and something that sounded like _what the hell did I get myself into now?_

She had no idea. Hell, neither did he.

He kept close to her side as they walked forward. The park was crowded; it was a warm spring night in Sacramento, the promise of summer just around the corner. There were no fireflies yet, but the trees fluttered softly in the light wind, a hint of distant thunder on the horizon.

Lisbon was drawn to the jazz band that had set up in one section of the park. Her love of music had surprised him when they'd first met. The jazz was a bigger shock than the discovery of the Spice Girls in her apartment. It simply hadn't struck him as something she would enjoy.

The lively number the bad had been playing gave way to a softer, slower tune, and before Lisbon could protest, he had pulled her close, one hand taking hers, the other settling on her back. After a surprised moment, she went along with his impromptu dance, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

It was very much like the time they had danced at the class reunion - no watching eyes, wondering what was going on between them. At every police ball they had attended, she had been very careful to keep things professional.

But here, with no one around them, she was free to do exactly what she wanted.

And so was he.

Slowly, he lowered his own head until his chin nearly touched her shoulder. He untwined their fingers, now wrapping both arms around her.

The catch of her breath was audible, but she tucked her hand against his side nonetheless.

They were pressed close together, and he could only imagine what they looked like to the other people around them.

Forget that - he knew precisely what they looked like.

He turned his head slightly, nose skimming her hair until he found the delicate shell of her ear. "You have to admit - I have good ideas sometimes," he murmured, deliberately letting his lips brush against her sensitive skin.

She didn't even bother to hide her shiver. "Sometimes," she breathed, her fingers digging into his back.

Leaning just a little farther, he dragged his mouth down to her ear lobe, lips closing over it. Her earring clinked against his teeth, and he heard her small groan of pure want, quickly stifled.

He only lingered for a moment before straightening slightly, kissing the top of her head.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest, so hard, in fact, that he was worried it might burst from her.

She looked up at him with dark, sultry eyes, and he knew she was wondering what had prompted him to break one of their carefully constructed barriers.

She deserved an explanation, but he also knew that she would be willing to let it slide if he gave her something she wanted more than words, at least for the moment.

He caught her lips with his own, softly at first, trying not to scare her with the force of his own passion. It was hard to keep something like that in check for the better part of a decade.

But his angry little princess had no intention of letting him have all the fun or call the shots.

She pushed onto her toes, mouth demanding, hot, taking what she wanted from him. He framed her face with his hands, knowing that she had held this back for almost as long as he had.

He could taste her wine from earlier, sweet and intoxicating, and he slid his tongue between her lips, searching for more.

When he could feel her trembling, he pulled back. Their first time wasn't going to be against a tree in some random Sacramento park, although he was having a hell of a time remembering why it was probably not the best plan.

Lisbon turned her face into his neck, and he could feel her heated skin.

He wrapped his arms around her in a protective gesture. He also wanted to make sure that she knew he didn't regret what had just happened.

"Jane?" she eventually murmured, still burrowed into him.

"Hmm?"

"What does this mean?" He heard the uncertainty in her voice, and it killed him.

"It means that I did something I've wanted to do for years, Teresa," he replied.

"Years?" she echoed, still clearly unsure.

"Years," he affirmed. _It should have been you_, he wanted to say, _not Lorelei_. But it was far too soon for statements like that.

"Well," she said faintly, "that's a start."

He smiled against her hair.

It was indeed.

**AN: I know...it was random. I can't control how my mind works! Hope you enjoyed it, if only a little!**


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